


100. Ending

by rowan_one



Series: Drabble Challenge [1]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowan_one/pseuds/rowan_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominoes lined up, knocked down, a series of events kickstarted, a butterfly's wingbeat starts a storm, a pendulum swings from the initial push, where is the start and where is the end? How can you tell when the whole plot seems like a Möbius strip?</p>
            </blockquote>





	100. Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or check out my tumblr (rowan-one)!

  


He could hardly consider anything but the pain.

Flames licked up his throat, wheezing out from his lungs with a voice that he would swear wasn’t his own– it was too warped, like someone was taking the soundwaves themselves and twisting them.

Although with the pain in his throat he might be convinced his vocal cords were being mangled and ripped about with the force being exerted on his body from the inside. 

He wasn’t dying from the thick ash in his lungs like the clown always predicted out of hatred for his old habit of lighting up, his lungs were actually **turning** into ash this time. 

He could feel the blood oozing from his nosemouth _eyes_ and at the same time he knew he was disconnected from his corporeal body he knew it down to his core because it was striking his mind with white hot, stabbing pain. His mind taken out with a fire poker left too long in the heat of the flame and his instincts desperately told him to embrace the heavy blanket of darkness threatining to drop around him.

He struggled against it all, he could hear the fucking clown laughing at him, amused by his final moments, taunting him and calling him too stubborn even in the face of his imminent death.

For a fleeting moment, he was abruptly THROWN back into his own decaying body–who was he kidding? It was a corpse now and it always had been–fumbling for control of his left hand and finally grasping what he wanted.

 _That_ voice was still talking instead of his own and he’d be even more damned than he’d always been if his own hands were responsible for pushing his son through the Gate. He didn’t care **who** was controlling them because– 

## That boy, is _my_ son, and I’m _**taking him back!**_

He may be comin to his end, but he knew with everything he had been through, everything that had happened, everything from his birth had kickstarted all these events in a sick domino game set up by that bastard.

This was only [the end of the beginning.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/191351)


End file.
